Chapter Text
Chapter 15
Their route to avoid the main roads had them on a lesser known route above Riverwood and took them past Helgen, which was still in ruins, up by Orphan Rock and a lone Stormcloak encampment. They fought off a duo of bandits but had arrived too late to save their first victim.
Near the top of the pass between Ivarstead and Helgen they had to hide in the entrance of a cave to let an Imperial patrol pass by. As they dropped down into the Rift valley, the clouds which had been looming ominously all morning, released their load in a steady rain as they walked down the cobble road.
“Damn, I forgot my raincoat.” Faendal groaned after digging through his pack, sighing, and throwing it back over his shoulder. “Hopefully this ends soon, or I’m going to have to change when we reach the Inn.”
“We should get there soon, half an hour at most.” A duo of elk jumped out of the woods and leapt across the road in front of them, Trav’lar pulling out his sword and readying a fist of flames, both his and Faendal’s bows had been wrapped up earlier against the rain. A bear pounded out and stopped in the road, turning towards them as the elk made their escape.
Trav’lar shot the flames at the charging bear while Lydia stepped forward shield up to meet it, and Faendal helped by throwing his own flames as well. The smell of burning fur blew back at them and Lydia swept her sword out, swinging up and taking the large animal across the throat. The bear kept charging and the cousins jumped out of the way, Faendal dodging a swinging paw. Blood splattered on the road, but not heavy enough to be a fatal wound and Lydia ran forward, bringing her sword down just as the beast turned to come for them again. This time the animal let out a groan and slumped to the ground, huffing, and digging at the ground with its legs, before slowly falling still.
“Everyone alright?” Affirmatives all around, so Trav’lar put away his sword and shook out his hand, rolling his shoulder out as well. “We can tell Temba there is one less bear out to wreck her trees.”
Soon enough the light from torch carrying guardsmen were visible through the rain, and the lights from the warm buildings.
They entered the Vilemyr Inn to dry off and warm up, Faendal checking the posts of local hunters and came back with a letter from the brothers written as a road report. Anoriath had noticed increased numbers of shifty looking travelers and had been followed by a strange Khajiit until he got back to Whiterun.
“So, they have agents out looking.” Trav’lar folded up the letter then tossed it in the fire. “Let’s head up to High Hrothgar after we’ve eaten something.”
“I think I saw it again, that…ghost. It was over by the barrows.” Trav’lar’s ears perked up, he’d almost forgotten the Greybeards said there was a word of power in the barrow.
“That thing’s evil Lynly! I told you to keep away from there!” The Innkeeper raised his voice, but he was looking over the bard carefully, as though checking on her health. The woman dropped her head and poked at the floor with the broom.
“I’m sorry. I was curious…I didn’t believe the stories.” She looked up and met the Innkeeper’s gaze. “I won’t go over there ever again.” The man sighed and said firmly.
“See that you don’t.” His voice softened. “I promised to keep you safe and I’m not going to break my word.”
Trav’lar stepped away from the fire and joined the two at the bar. “Having some trouble with the barrow?”
“It’s haunted and you should stay away Dragonborn. I’ve seen one of the spirits with my very own eyes. When it glared at me, I swear it burned right through my soul.”
“Do the spirits haunt the town as well? How long have they been around?”
“No, fortunately they seem to be sticking to the barrow, I think they are guarding it. They really started acting up a year ago or so, but there have always been tales. Certainly isn’t helping my business any, who’d want to rent a room next to a haunted barrow?”
“The type you don’t want, necromancers and mages. We could check it for you, the Greybeards said there is something inside for me.”
“If you think there is anything you can do, be my guest Dragonborn. Oh, that reminds me, this was found in the barrow, before the hauntings begin, perhaps you can use it.” To Trav’lar’s surprise, the Innkeeper pulled out a dragon claw from under the bar, with sapphires as claws.
“Has anyone ever explored the barrow?” The bosmer asked as he accepted the claw.
“About a year or two ago, some fella named Wyndelius came through, said he was some kind of treasure hunter. I warned him not to go in there, like I’m warning you.” The Innkeeper seemed to pale a bit. “The very next night we heard screams from the barrow, and that was it. We never saw him again.”
“The guards didn’t go in to check?”
“If the spirits had already killed one, they could kill another. Who would risk that to check on a stranger?”
Trav’lar rejoined Lydia and his cousin at the fire, holding up the claw before placing it in his pack, his cousin swapping his wet coat for a dry cloak. “So we know there is a word wall down there, did he say the spirits had killed someone?”
“A few years ago, no one else has dared go closer since, except for when we all hid from the dragon.” Lydia hummed, then waved over the bard, ordering a meal for each of them.
“It’s the later half of the day, do we want to head in tonight, or wait until morning?”
“Knowing these barrows, it would be best to head in tomorrow after resting, we’ll probably be in there all day.” Faendal sighed at his cousin’s words.
“Why, and how, did they dig these things so deeply. How could they stand being underground for so long?”
~ ~ ~ ~
They left most of their belongings with Wilhelm, taking their weapons, some potions, enough food for the day, several torches and headed to the barrow just as the sun was lighting the still raining sky. The barrow looked the same as they last saw it during the dragon attack, short, squat, and moss covered. There were leaves piled against the open coffins, yet the door opened easily.
They light a torch, Trav’lar carrying it with Lydia in the lead and Faendal behind with his bow ready, then head down the spiral staircase, there was a collapsed pillar in the hall beyond making Lydia duck, and the bodies laid out in the alcoves looked undisturbed, grave goods still tucked against the dried husks and bones. There was water dripping from somewhere further in.
They reached a split in the hallway, one path leading to a small room, the other to a gate, and faced a body in a standing position. Suddenly there was a blue glowing figure just beyond the gate, Lydia raised her shield as they faced it.
“Leave this place, leave this place.” The figure turned and slowly walked away. “Leave, leave. Leave.” The last word sounded menacing, but other than the figure disappearing from view, nothing happened.
“That looked like a dunmer, yet this is a Nord tomb. Do you think that was the Wyndelius?” Faendal asked, Trav’lar still stared at where the figure had disappeared.
“Perhaps. Got killed by the spirit and is now haunting this place.” Lydia lowered her shield but didn’t put away her sword. “No choice but to continue.”
The room held some fallen debris and four levers on the walls, Trav’lar found the holes where poison darts lay and had everyone step out of the room. “I’ll test this, hopefully we can get the gate open.
After several minutes of trial and error, gates closing and cutting him off from the others and blocking the way out, Trav’lar finally got all the gates open and didn’t get poisoned. They moved on cautiously, now in the spirit’s domain. They came upon a locked door and a gate with a pull chain, leaving the locked door for now Lydia pulled the chain to open the gate, then jumped back into Trav’lar, making him drop the torch as spears shot out of the wall then retracted.
Down the stairs they came to two more doors, both made of iron, but one had the old symbol for dragon on it. They missed the trap on the door and triggered a jet of flame once the door was open. “Let’s wait until the flame dies down, check what’s beyond the other door.”
They weren’t surprised to meet the spirit, who had been sitting at a table, but got up when they opened the last door.
“What is this? Someone living, among the dead?” The spirit summoned flames and Lydia met the first blast with her shield, Trav’lar and Faendal shooting quick bursts from behind her until she swept her sword out at the specter. As the spirit fell, a bright flash of light blinded them, and they felt a push. Once their vision cleared, a body was on the ground.
“Wait, he wasn’t a spirit? Or was he?” Faendal looked over the body but stepped aside as Trav’lar entered the room, checking a potion before grabbing up a book.
“This was Wyndelius. He created a potion to give him a spectral look to scare the villagers away from the tomb.” The bosmer flipped through the pages. “He’s been here for almost two years, looking for some sort of burial chamber, but didn’t have the claw to get beyond the puzzle door. Oh.”
“Oh? What did you find?” The others gathered to look over his shoulder.
“Most of the entries are dated 4E 200, but the next few entries are 1E 1050. I think he went mad from being down here for so long, maybe poisoned himself with the potions.”
“He thought he was in the first era, and the protector of the tomb?” Faendal shook his head and glanced back at the body. “See, people weren’t meant to spend so much time underground.”
They did a quick check of the room, made comfortable for someone staying a long period of time. There was a bedroll against the wall next to the fireplace, where a pot of stew bubbled away. There was an old but functional Alchemy station next to the door, a table with chair that had several books piled on top, and a cabinet that was well stocked with food. They wrapped Wyndelius’s body in the bedroll and laid him in the corner, then headed back to the trapped door.
The fuel for the flame trap had run out so they hopped over a puddle of water and opened the double wooden doors, revealing the usual hallway before the puzzle door. When Trav’lar pulled the claw from his pack, Faendal gave a small gasp.
“Are those real sapphires?” The bosmer traced a finger along one claw. “They are massive, how has no one removed them?”
“Makes you wonder how many claws there are, and what they are made from.” Lydia tilted the claw so she could see the solution, then walked over to the door, spinning the needed rings until it matched. “When you are ready my Thane.”
With a twist of the claw, dust fell from the edges of the door as it slowly sunk into the floor, a slight breeze from beyond brought the distinctive smell of draugr. They would have to be on their guard.
Turning the corner and descending the stairs brought them to a room filled with coffins, which they went through with weapons ready. They had almost reached the other doorway when gates slid shut, trapping them inside with awakening draugr.
“Stay behind me!” Lydia pushed the cousins back against the gate and rushed the first draugr pulling itself from its resting place, lopping its head off with one powerful swing, which bounced off another opening sarcophagus. Faendal took care of that one with two shots, as Trav’lar tossed flames at another that emerged at the top of the room, causing it to tumble off the platform and smash into the stone podium in the middle of the room. Soon all five draugr were down, and the room smelled strongly of burning corpse.
“I hope this opens the gates.” Trav’lar climbed up a ledge and yanked hard on a lever that was tucked away in a half-collapsed alcove. With shrieking groans, the gates retracted back into the ceiling. “Is everyone alright?”
“Just need to get away from this stench.” Faendal said with a grimace, looking at the still smoldering corpse. When they came to the damp spiral staircase, they skirted the gated floor, not wanting to have it open beneath them. As they crept up, the cousins could hear the creaking and groaning of a skeleton somewhere above them. The stairs continued up past an iron door, so Trav’lar went up to check. There was a locked door that was beyond his ability, so he joined the others and opened the door. There were two floor traps before they found the skeleton and Lydia smashed it to pieces before it could draw its bow.
The next room had more skeletons in a chamber, where the floor was shimmering with oil. Faendal lit a new torch and Lydia tossed the old one down into the room, crouching down below the wooden wall as the room below erupted into flames and hissing of dying skeletons. Once the flames died down enough for them to reach the other stairway, they headed across, Lydia rushing up the last few steps as two stone lids slammed to the floor.
“How many more of these are we going to face?” Faendal shot the furthest one and brought it to its knees. The one Lydia was fighting used ice magic that brushed over Trav’lar’s head.
“The real question is how much further do we have to go?” Trav’lar lit the last draugr on fire and it collapsed to the ground and brushed off frost from his hair and ears.
“I want to know how many more traps there are in here.” Lydia pointed through the doorway at a length of rope stretched across the hall. Trav’lar rubbed his face and led the way over the trap. The next three draugr were easily taken care of and the new room they found themselves in was in worse shape than the others, with much of it collapsed and buried in fallen earth. They decided to take a break to eat, drink and rest.
“I really can’t see how that dunmer was able to stay here for so long, a few hours and I’m already sick of this place.” Lydia laughed as Faendal tossed a loose stone at one of the wrapped bodies.
“Unfortunately, we are going to have to get used to this, for I’m sure more of these word walls are tucked deep within more barrows and tombs.” Trav’lar chuckled as his cousin’s ears drooped in dismay and took another drink of water.
When they continued on, avoiding a spike wall trap, they fought two more draugr at the base of the stairs, Faendal taking the brunt of the ice magic thrown their way until an arrow to its eye distracted it enough for Lydia to finish. As Faendal brushed himself off and healed himself, Trav’lar tried the door but it was locked tight.
“We need a key to open this.” Lydia gave a short cry and yanked a cord from around the magic wielding draugr’s neck. On the end of the cord was a rusty key.
“Here you are my Thane, I think we should prepare ourselves for whatever is beyond the door.
~ ~ ~ ~
When the drawbridge finally came down Faendal groaned in relief. The puzzle wasn’t difficult to figure out, but the pedestals were hard to turn, the moisture from the waterway running through the chamber had caused the inner mechanisms to rust in place and were hard to break free. To Lydia’s frustration, the next room was heavily trapped with a large door at the far end, revealing a large chamber with many stone coffins all over the place.
When the heavy gate slammed shut behind them, Trav’lar gave out several curses, drawing his bow as lids started popping off sarcophaguses all around them. There was no time to get an accurate count before Trav’lar and Faendal were firing at the awakened undead. Lydia stood between them and the nearest skeletons, shield up to block the arrows that were shot back at them. The shots the cousins missed gave the undead a chance to get closer, where Lydia was waiting.
Finally they stood in the middle of the chamber, the only movement being from them as they looked around for any draugr they may have missed. “I am ready to leave now, are we almost done?”
Trav’lar weakly chuckled and held a glowing hand over his leg where an arrow had dug a deep groove in his leg through the armor. Lydia yanked arrows out of her shield and kicked a ribcage out of the way before ascending the stairs.
“The walkway looks sturdy enough. Let me go first and test it.” She walked carefully across the wooden walkway, but it didn’t creak or moan in distress. “There is a tunnel here, short for even you two.”
It was a crude tunnel and led them up before it emptied in a room that suddenly lit, torches and candles lighting by magic. At the far side of the room was the word wall. Faendal and Lydia checked the room over as Trav’lar approached the wall, the sound of drumming and chanting getting stronger the closer he got, eyes running over the carved words.
‘Here lies the body of Heig, friend to all beasts, servant of Kyne, may she find eternal rest in the forest of dreams.’
Kyne drew his attention, it was the first word of a shout, and as he studied it, some of his stolen knowledge revealed it was to soothe wild beasts, which some dragons would use when they felt lazy and didn’t want the trill of the hunt, but to fill their bellies. When Trav’lar grew aware of the room again, Faendal was crouched and resting against the side of the wall that jutted out, and Lydia was coming back across another walkway.
“The next room dead ends, but I believe there is a secret path out. Hopefully, it will take us back toward the entrance.” Faendal was the one to find the pull chain and reveal the rough tunnel, several minutes of crouched walking brought them to the end and another pull chain. To their surprise and relief, the room ahead was the one Wyndelius had made into his home.
As they exited the barrow, Faendal took a deep breath of the evening air and stretched his arms toward the cloudy sky. “Finally, fresh air. I’m going to smell like draugr for days.”
“Dragonborn! You are alright!” The farmer’s daughter ran up to them, a cow plodding along behind her. “We started to get worried the longer you were down there, but no one had reported any screaming.”
“I found what the Greybeards sent me to find, and I have something for the Innkeeper as well. Turns out the barrow wasn’t being haunted by a spirit, but a tomb raider trying to find treasure.”
“Fastred! Where are you girl? The eggs have yet to be gathered, and where is the cow?” A man’s voice called from the field to their right, and the young woman sighed.
“Coming father.” They continued to the Inn, Faendal trying to decide if he wanted a meal or a bath first, and Trav’lar nodded to all the guards that greeted him.
“Dragonborn, you’ve returned! Did you find the spirit?” Trav’lar handed Wilhelm the journal.
“There was no spirit, just that treasure hunter scaring people away so he can find some treasure. He went mad searching and ended up believing he was the spirit that protected the barrow.”
“So this was all a ruse by that dark elf? And we all fell for it, how could we be so stupid?”
“It’s not your fault.” Lydia shook her head as she spoke to the man. “He took advantage of your fear and of the rumors that already existed.”
“Thank you Dragonborn, we can now rest easy knowing there are no spirits to come and harm us. Perhaps now business will pick up a bit.”
Over dinner of goat steaks covered in melted cheese, they discussed their plans for the next day.
“I think it will rain again in the morning, you should try to find a raincoat, perhaps Wilhelm knows where to get one.” Trav’lar frowned down at his steak, it tasted a bit overdone, but he was too hungry bother asking for one less cooked. Faendal smacked the table lightly.
“Thank you, I’d forgotten about that since we have been underground all day. I’ll ask after dinner, really don’t want to face seven thousand steps while wet.”